


Turn your back

by Splinter



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Car Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Sex, inappropriate vehicular activity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 16:06:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15998678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splinter/pseuds/Splinter
Summary: It's Furiosa's space, and Max feels good in it.Fill for thesmutty_arts prompt challenge, inspired byyoukaiyume'slovely NSFW art.





	Turn your back

It’s not really the same. The old war rig was smashed apart in the road war, picked over long before they made it back to the canyon to negotiate peace with the rock riders. The replacement truck had to be put together quickly, the best Furiosa and the blackthumbs could do in the time. She already has her eye on some substitute parts, though she knows the core was sound enough. 

The new cab has a similar layout, down to the wide back seat and a knife concealed in the gearstick. Some things don’t change. It’s still hers, still her space.

It was in the rig that she and Max learned to trust each other. It’s where she first turned her back on him without expecting an attack, where he found he could sleep while she drove. It has the same smell, guzzoline and leather and dust, and if it doesn’t yet have the same accumulated layers of mods and adjustments, she’s working on it. 

Furiosa feels safe here, fairly safe. She thinks Max does, too.

It’s there in small things: the set of his shoulders, the easier way he checks the horizon. He’s less twitchy – still on his guard, particularly out in the wasteland, but he isn’t wound so tight. He’s made some of his very worst jokes here, especially when it’s just them and the girls in the cab. Or when it’s just the two of them, as it is now.

It’s been a peaceful day. She’s spent it in the garage checking over the rig, finding new spots to stash weapons, thinking over possible improvements. Most of the other workers have knocked off for the day, though there’s some kind of get-together planned for the evening. Furiosa means to put in an appearance, but not for too long. She doesn’t want to cramp their style, and besides, she likes this quiet time, just getting on with things.

When she looks up, Max is smiling at her. He’s sitting sprawled on the back seat, the patch he was working on now mended, his sewing kit tidied away. She has a feeling he’s been watching her for a while. She lifts her chin, an unspoken challenge, sees his smile widen. 

It’s a small, private smile, but it reads big on his full, generous mouth. Or maybe she’s just used to looking for it. 

Max reaches out and grabs hold of her, his hands large and strong on her waist. Her hip catches when he draws her through the gap between the front seats, and he tugs harder, half lifting her into his lap. The surprise of it is that this feels safe too, or something that both is safe and isn’t. Her heart is jolting but she likes it, likes that she’ll let him do this. 

Mostly, she’ll let him. Landing across his knees, she scuffles, turns it into a grapple. Max is grinning now, definitely smug as she straddles him. She kisses him, bites at his plump lower lip, feels him growl. 

His hands are firm on her bum, cupping her, pulling her closer. She can’t resist grinding down, hearing his breathing change, hot against her cheek. One of his hands slides up to her waist, fingers finding the gap between her bodice and the top of her leathers. It sends a shiver through her, that little touch, the way he can go straight for the places she isn’t armoured, how good it feels when he finds her bare.

Under her, Max shifts, his arm tighter around her waist, hips pushing up to meet her. The seam of her leathers isn’t quite on her clit, and suddenly grinding isn’t nearly enough. She gets her hand down to unfasten her trousers, then pulls away altogether, ready to wriggle out of her clothes.

She has to stop halfway, remembering her boots are still on. Max is smiling again as he watches her scramble out of her pants, though his eyes are dark and hungry. He looks so open, leaning back on the broad seat, legs falling wide and cock hard enough to tent the flap of his trousers. She keeps looking back and forth as she undoes his laces, from his flushed cheeks to the dark skin of his cock. 

It’s awkward, working his pants down enough while he’s still sitting, though he eagerly lifts his hips to help her. They’re both breathing hard in the small space, skin hot as she fumbles. For a moment, Furiosa thinks of the unnamed fruit from the Dag’s latest crop, of peeling away hard protective rind to reveal firm, sweet flesh. She can smell Max’s skin, sweat and arousal. Once she finally has his cock out, she can’t resist ducking her head to lick at the precum on the head, grins when he twitches.

He is so strong and so vulnerable, spread out on her back seat with his pants half down, cock standing up hard and hot under her hand. She thinks of going down on him, doing everything she can to undo him, but her cunt is already clenching with want. 

When she sits back up, the look on his face is almost more than she can take. She’s half-stripped in the middle of the garage, but that’s not why she’s blushing. It’s just so raw, so trusting. Almost before she means to, she turns to straddle him – facing away from him, grabbing the back of the seat so she can lower herself onto his cock. 

Max’s hands land on her, on her thigh and her hip, guiding her down. There’s a messy moment as they get the position right, but then she sinks onto him in a long slide, pushing into the wet stretch of it. Just for a moment, he lets go of her hip, and she feels his fingers flutter against the strings of her corset, where the laces hang down against her bare skin. Then he grips her hip again, and she starts to move. 

The leather of the seat is rough under her knees as she grinds down. He hasn’t much range of movement, but he’s rocking with her, bodies in sync. It’s hard and fast and urgent; her metal hand is braced so hard against the front seat that it moves, tipping her forwards another few inches. Max grabs tighter, afraid she’s going to fall, but the new angle is even better, her cunt shuddering around him. With her head bowed, she can see his thighs, see where he vanishes into her own body, where her flesh feels wet and swollen and needy.

She gropes behind her with her flesh arm, finds her hand on his chest, his heart thumping under her fingers. Max holds her hand there for a moment, a tight grip, then reaches for her clit. 

Furiosa wails at the first press of his fingers, not caring how loud she is. She keeps her hips pumping as she comes, feeling him inside and out as her body clenches and shivers. Max groans as he lets go, hips twitching under her, his fingers still stroking and his other hand hot on her thigh.

They both take a long moment to recover, Furiosa leaning against the front seat with her heart pounding and her knees shaky. When she finally climbs off him, there’s a rude, noisy squelch of air as his cock slides out of her. She’s too breathless to laugh.

Max looks wrecked, slumped back against the seat, lips parted and eyes more than half-closed. But he reaches out and pulls her back into his lap, as if he doesn’t need to look to know where she is. 

Sitting cuddled against him, Furiosa reaches up to cup his cheek, nuzzling her face against his. His stubble is rough against her skin, prickling at her lips as she kisses and pets him. Max moves his arms closer around her, slow and almost sleepy, as relaxed as if they were safe in her room with the steel door locked against intruders.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm at [lurkinghistoric](http://lurkinghistoric.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.


End file.
